"Mommy, Iron Man Got Poo on Him!"

This is what Hank announced to me as I came in the door from work yesterday. Given that the only Iron Man Hank owns is on his sneakers, I immediately feel some apprehension. Other clues include the fact that Hank appears freshly bathed, and has on different clothes than he did in the morning. Mike appears at the door, and the plot thickens:

"Honey, there's been an incident."

The lead-up to all of this is that in our efforts to potty train Hank, he has developed holding mechanisms that bear strength reminiscent of the jaws of life. He can hold pee-pee all day at daycare, insisting that he doesn't have to go until he gets home. The kid is developing a complex, which I don't like. And the poo...sigh.

"Hank, do you have to go poo?"
"NO!!"
"Honey, I know you do, look at how you're standing. Let's go sit on the potty."
"NO!! I *NO HAVE* to go!! I go, at...at CHRISTMASTIME!"
"Hank, we're not waiting 9 months for you to go poo. It's good to poo. Everybody poos. Let's go."
"WAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

This is how it happens *every time*. You'd think we were forcing the child down onto a live grenade the way his butt avoids the potty when he has to go. He holds it until he makes himself sick. The other day he went 3 times, 2 of which made it into the potty. The other waited until I was distracted long enough to not realize anything was amiss until the house stunk. And then came yesterday...

Apparently, he told his daycare teacher that his tummy hurt, and he resembled a small Buddha. Knowing his phobia, she told him that it was ok to just poo in his Pull-Up, so that his tummy could feel better. He did, and the situation quickly turned dire. Poo went everywhere. Mike arrives as the cleanup process was well underway. Hank's pants had to be *thrown into the garbage*. Poo went into his socks and *into his shoes*. It was quite traumatic for all involved, except Hank, who exclaimed "I sure feel better!" and found the whole cleanup process endlessly interesting. Feeling upset that my baby was in need and I wasn't there, I exacted a promise from him that he would never hold it like that again.

This morning, as I rushed about the house trying to get us on our way to daycare early since I had a doctor's appointment at 8:15, I approach Hank for a potty run. He's standing funny.

"Mommy, could you change me?"

Oh LORD. Yes, another cleanup project. It's going to be one of those days.